


Lost Cause

by TheThirdGreywaren (ShelbyDraven)



Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: F/M, sad music results in sad things
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-18
Updated: 2015-03-18
Packaged: 2018-03-18 13:04:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 971
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3570659
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShelbyDraven/pseuds/TheThirdGreywaren
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The mark of a sun rendered her a lost cause, but she could not feel like one unless told. It was the same fate Karl begged Anders to take him from, and Anders had never forgot that Hawke did not wish to end the same way, ever. She had requested that her friends kill her if she was ever turned Tranquil, and Anders had taken that oath to heart.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lost Cause

**Author's Note:**

> My first DA fanfic, which was the result of listening to 'You Are My Sunshine' sung by the Civil Wars on my Pandora.

Anders had always feared that he would find Hawke with a sun brand on her forehead.

He would wake up from night terrors, a scream caught in his throat and his own grief drowning him. He would wake, and Hawke would still be beside him, her forehead unblemished and clean, her eyes sleepy and full of emotion when she would wake along with him. She would wrap him in her arms, her fingers gently brushing back the hair that fell into his face, soothing him with soft hums and promises that she was here and she was alive and she was not Tranquil, she would never be.

Funny thing was, Anders swore to himself the same thing.

*

Anders did not remember exactly what he was doing before he saw Varric step into the clinic, his face grim and a deep sadness rooted in the set of his mouth and curve of his eyes and slight unsteadiness of his steps.

He remember what he did during, though, because it was like time itself stumbled to a stop, and his heart clenched in his chest because it was Hawke, Hawke was hurt or dead or missing or worse and Anders was not there to help.

Justice began to stir at the fear and anger burning in Anders’ chest.

“I think you should sit down, Blondie,” Varric warned. Anders felt his heart increase its rhythm, and against his own mental demands to just be told the news, he leaned back against the empty examination table. In the rush of emotions Varric caused by walking through that door, alone, Anders had not noticed that everyone that could fled, leaving his clinic near empty, except for the body of an elderly woman on a back table.

Was it fortunate that the dead could not speak?

Sensing his small victory, Varric inhaled deeply, both steeling himself and giving the flair of dramatics that the storytelling dwarf treasured.

“They found Hawke,” Varric said. He took a step back, and Anders did not blame him because he felt his control slipping as rage and blind fear swallowed him whole, leaving him screaming and Justice bellowing before everything went black for Anders and he was left to the sad, lonely darkness of his own mind.

*

Anders was sorry to see himself alive.

He blinked at the sudden change in his environment. He could feel the heavy dampness of his hands, and he looked down to see them coated in what he expected them to: blood. The obvious cause was dead at his feet, and Anders found himself stepping back from the templar body only to nearly trip over another. He looked around him slowly, dull shock filling his bones as he took in the bodies surrounding him.

He was relieved to see that none were his friends.

Then he finally faced what was in front of him, and he felt all his relief wash away like sand on a beach, because there was one more body in front of him, sitting patiently on the floor, her dark blue eyes watching him with the lack of emotion only a Tranquil could muster.

Hawke’s dark hair partially covered it, but the unmistakable sun that had also decorated Karl’s forehead was branded onto her forehead, the mark speaking volumes.

Feeling raw and shredded, Anders took a step, then another, before sinking to his knees, inches away from Hawke.

“Is there something wrong, Anders?”

His breath caught in his throat at the sound of his name, although it was flat and emotionless, unweighted with the memories between them, the sweet words and gentle touches and months of comfort.

His eyes burned as tears began to slide down his face.

“Marian,” He whispered, his throat aching with grief, “Marian, Marian.”

He whispered her name until it became a mantra, his grief leaving him drowning in guilt and regret. He reached for her hands and held them, her fingers seemingly colder than usual, and he sobbed. He cried and said her name and clutched at her hands, her slender fingers bearing the memories of long nights she ran them through his hair and wiped away his tears, the long walks after missions where she would lace them through his own and smile at him, full of happiness and love even when she was covered in dirt and dried blood.

The mark of a sun rendered her a lost cause, but she could not feel like one unless told. It was the same fate Karl begged Anders to take him from, and Anders had never forgot that Hawke did not wish to end the same way, ever. She had requested that her friends kill her if she was ever turned Tranquil, and Anders had taken that oath to heart.

Now, Anders reached out shakily, cupping her cheek. Hawke stared back, emotionless, and Anders closed his eyes, picturing those brilliant blue eyes. She had loved him deeply, and he loved her with every shred of his being.

He loved Marian Hawke and he remembered wanting to scream it to the sky, to tell the world that he loved her and would die for her, as well as kill. She was the piece of him that always left a gaping hole, which is why he had ignored Justice’s rumbles about how horrible and distracting Hawke was and let himself love.

“I love you, Marian,” Anders almost choked on the words over the lump in his throat, and her leaned in to gently kiss her marked forehead before sliding the small dagger from her belt and sliding it into her chest.

She let out a soft gurgle before sliding forwards into Anders arms. When she died Anders had felt it, felt her last shuttering breath and sudden limpness, and it was the last thing he felt for a long time.


End file.
